


But If You Tame Me

by 3ff3rViskus



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Amnesiac Sans, Asexual Mettaton who is also sex-positive, Chara & Frisk are twins, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Everybody loves Sans, Gang-Leader Gaster, Human Pets, Human/Monster Romance, Monster heats, Multi, PTSD Sans, Polyamorous Monsters, Sans hates himself, Sibling Incest, Skeleton multishipping, Soul Sex, Soulbonds, Underfell & Underswap Bros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-06-30 11:40:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15750933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3ff3rViskus/pseuds/3ff3rViskus
Summary: Monsters rule the surface after the barrier fades and they find that humans have destroyed their own civilization, and somehow became primitive creatures incapable of speech. Humans are now an endangered species that monsters keep as pets. To the humans living deep in an underground bunker, what the monsters don’t know won’t hurt them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [A/N: An idea I had that I shared on a discord server that kinda blew up and took on a life of it’s own. Thanks to Rehlia, Kamari333, and Luckless_Lady for encouraging me and adding onto the concept. Here’s my version of the ‘humans as monster’s pets with a language barrier’ idea. 
> 
> Slight warning for some uncomfy sexual stuff between Frisk and Chara in this chapter; I left it intentionally non-detailed.
> 
> This chapter is largely in Frisk’s POV.]

 

 

She sits in the dark silence of her sleep-cubby, knees drawn up to her chest while she listens to the soft breathing of a chamber full of other people. The wake-up lights will come on soon. This day is a very important day that they are all about to begin, but she could not will herself to sleep when it was time to do so. Frisk inspects the cubby directly below hers and sees that her brother Chara had no such trouble. Confident as always. A pleased smirk on his sleeping face.

 

Feeling ornery, she dangles her legs over the edge of her cubby and prods his shoulder with her foot, earning a hum of annoyance and a half-conscious swat of Chara’s hand as he rolls over. If he gives her grief about being too anxious to sleep later, she’ll just call him lazy and pretend to be excited for the big event.

This is how they always are with each other.

 

The two of them are fraternal twins, which is exceedingly rare inside the bunker that’s set deep inside Mt. Ebott. Resources are extremely limited here, so if a person isn’t particularly useful to the society as a whole, they are given no special treatment. This usually means that a child falls ill and dies at a young age if no one intervenes.

 

Chara was considered to be the ‘stronger’ child from the beginning, but the two of them have maintained a constant rivalry that ironically has made them both just strong enough. Competition is encouraged here, and sometimes your accomplishment over others is the only possession you have. The adults of the facility would have expected Frisk to falter a long time ago, but she has turned out to be tenacious in the face of the challenges set in front of her.

 

This is the bond she shares with Chara. They push each other forward and trust each other to come out of things in one piece. Chara trusts that Frisk is a worthy opponent, and Frisk trusts that she is someone important to Chara. The bruises and blood between them are accepted as part of the bond.

 

Thankfully for the two of them, the Overseer recognized them as a couple of equally strong Souls. They will be carrying out the same task for their society together. This year Frisk, Chara, and six others have completed their training as Tamers. Today they will all be exiting the bunker as a group.

 

Tamers have the very important task of going to the surface and taming monsters to bring back to the bunker using the power of their Soul. The Overseer explained that this is to keep the bunker running, and the people of the bunker alive and well. The whole facility is a mishmash of human and monster engineering, and it requires the use of magic for a multitude of things. Human beings cannot use magic without help from a monster’s Soul.

 

Recruiting monsters and binding them to a human Soul also serves the larger purpose of protecting humanity from threats. When the day came that the bunker’s program sensed that the outside world was again safe for humans to live in, monsters had dominated the surface, and now they greatly outnumber humans. Many humans who left the bunker never came back, in the early decades of ‘freedom’ when they went out gathering depleted resources.

 

When a human did come back, they brought a monster with them. It was decided from then on that monsters that enter the bunker are not allowed to leave it again. The ‘human that returned’ told all those beneath Mt. Ebott a story of human capture and slavery at the hands of monsters, and how the monsters seemed to think humans were unintelligent creatures. From this, an idea was formed.

 

The Returned had won over and switched the tables on their ‘owner’, turning their monster master into an obedient servant that catered to them and gave them the use of magic. Human souls have the power of Influence, and a heavily-influenced monster will treat a human they’ve bonded to as kin with great loyalty. The Returned began teaching other humans with powerful Soul ability to follow their example, and it eventually became a tradition.

 

Tamers are heroes to the rest of humanity, taking on a dangerous mission that they all hope will one day set them truly free upon the surface. The training to become a Tamer is grueling and usually begins in early childhood. One must have strength of Soul, rigidness of will, intelligence, a high tolerance for pain, and the ability to deceive one’s target.

 

Frisk bears the Tamer’s mark on the back of her neck with pride. A symbol of her graduation. It is a tattoo in the shape and color of her soul, with a smaller white soul inside of it. A human soul in possession of a monster soul. All Tamers who make the cut have this mark, usually hidden beneath their hair. Chara’s mark is exactly the same as hers, as they are both crimson Souls.

 

The other members of their class are all roughly the same age. Monsters seem to prefer younger humans as pets. All eight of the Tamers this year have managed to survive just past their teens, without succumbing to illness.

 

They all have tanned skin and dark hair except for Forrest, who happens to have drawn the recessive gene lottery with his blonde hair. The monsters will probably find his appearance fascinating, and the green tattoo on his neck matches his eyes.

 

Yellow-souled Prim is a quiet and serious type who never seems to falter.

 

Orange Autumn is a warm soul with a sly sense of humor.

 

Maude is full of purple prose and has a mean right hook.

 

River and Skylar are a pair that almost mirror Chara and Frisk, but their attitudes toward each other are much cooler and calmer.

 

They all wear grey hand-me-down tunics with white hearts embroidered on the left side of the chest. This used to remind others of their status, as not everyone in the bunker is given a full set of clothes to wear. Today they’ll be leaving their uniforms behind for the next upcoming class of Tamers to use.

 

 

 

As Frisk predicted, the lights finally flicker on, casting the chamber in an artificial off-white glow. Every surface in the residential areas are grungy with age and heavy use. She greets the opportunity to climb out of her cubby and fully stretch herself upright on the main floor, barefoot, while the others stir more slowly around her. The door to the chamber slides open.

 

The OverSeer’s monster steps gently inside, steadying themselves with a paw to the ceiling. Well, _one_ of the Overseer’s monsters. The bunker is a somewhat cramped space for even humans, who have all become rather short over the centuries. Many monsters such as this one tower several feet over them, with a bulk to them that has always been impressive to Frisk. Humans are so thin and delicate in comparison.

 

“Good morning, Goldie.”

 

Goldie the monster looks over at Frisk in mild surprise, then studies her for a moment. Frisk expertly picks out a multitude of feelings from the tiny shifts of expression in the monster’s face. Being able to read others is an important skill for a Tamer, after all. After that brief moment, Goldie smiles politely and dips her head back in greeting.

 

As Goldie gently wakes the others and helps them get ready for the day, Frisk stands quietly near the door and analyzes what she saw. Expression. Posture. Breathing. Timing. These are the important indicators of hidden thoughts. Goldie seemed...surprised, then pleased, then concerned, then sad...and then eventually reeled herself back in to the task at hand with a socially acceptable response.

 

Chara slips over to stand next to her and follows her line of sight while she puzzles over the golden-furred monster with the curled ears and flat snout. Goldie’s hunched posture and timid demeanor in contrast to her large size has always been rather cute to Frisk. She remembers one day as a little girl she tried to pet Goldie’s fur. The Overseer batted her hand away and gave her a stern lecture about not touching other people’s things.

 

She feels a surge of genuine excitement now and looks over to Chara to see him doing the same to her. They share a rare twin moment in unison, down to their Souls. They both want their own monster. Something that belongs only to them. Something no one else can touch. Something that isn’t borrowed, and can’t be taken away.

 

The group makes their way to the dining hall, which is already crowded with other humans and a few monsters. The graduating class of Tamers was allowed to sleep in a bit later than normal, so the rest of the bunker could see them off. Send-off rituals are very important. It gives the bunker something to celebrate and hope for, to break up the monotony of just existing.

 

When they sit down to eat they are assaulted on all sides by rows of encouraging hands, people trying to impart good luck and well wishes through their touches. Human beings cannot see each other’s Souls without help from a monster, so they try to connect in other ways. Physical contact from others reminds humans that they are in another’s thoughts and heart.

 

The low buzz of quiet talking from a room full of thousands of people is a little overwhelming to Frisk. Loudness is something that expends unnecessary energy, in the bunker, and most communication is silent. Monsters and humans alike down here use sign language to communicate usually, and even then there are social protocols to follow. Don’t touch what doesn’t belong to you. Don’t try to make a connection with what doesn’t belong to you either.

 

But the speech around her is a testament to everyone’s excitement, so she endures the discomfort with a smile on her face. She doesn’t want to dim anyone’s spirits. Chara doesn’t seem to mind it, basking in all the attention like he were the Overseer herself.

 

Goldie waits patiently until the graduates have finished eating, then signs for them to follow her out of the hall. They all walk obediently, single file down the passages that gradually get narrower and narrower as they reach the outermost reaches of the bunker. Closer and closer to the surface. Frisk’s heart thumps wildly as the grey tones she’s familiar with give way to the oranges and yellows of the emergency lights of the outer walls. Their surroundings gradually get darker, punctuated with occasional red text from lit-signs meant to warn them away.

 

Eventually, Goldie pauses in a room that is nearly pitch-black, and they all bump into each other. There’s a grating squeaking sound, of metal against metal, and then a little circle of light appears above them. At the top of a metal rung ladder built into the wall, is the silhouette of the Overseer, looking down at them from a hole to the outside world. A beckoning hand urges the lot of them to begin climbing.

 

Frisk is right behind Chara, feeling the icy-cold rungs against her hands and feet as they all ascend. There is a gust of air trickling down between the moving bodies, that feels like one of the cooling fans in the bunker...but it smells different. She’s never smelled anything like it before. Something wells up in her Soul and she almost feels dizzy from it.

 

When they reach the opening, Frisk hears gasping noises, and audible speech. The place she emerges into has no rooms. No halls. No doors. No buzzing lights. No _people_ , save for the ten of them standing there. She can see the sky. The light from the sun _touches_ everything. There are enormous plants all around them that are at least twice as tall as _Goldie_ , even with the monster now standing up at her full height.

 

The Overseer begins snapping her fingers to get their attention, before they all spend too long gazing at everything. Years of disciplinary training pay off, as all the graduates stand at attention. She’s an elderly woman, with white hair braided in rows cascading down her back. Her clothing is the most ornate that Frisk has ever seen, even though it is grey like everyone else’s. It seems to shimmer and glint with many other subtle colors, and there is fine embroidery throughout it in the full spectrum of all souls. Frisk suspects magic.

 

Madame Overseer gives them all a sort of wry, stern smile and gestures to them with a finger.

 

“Disrobe. All of you.”

 

They all obey without a fuss, though they shoot each other amused looks from the awkward feeling of being completely nude in a big group. This has already been covered in their training, so it’s not really a surprise. Frisk had been wondering when it would happen, thinking they would be ordered to hand over their uniforms before being let out onto the surface. The only one who seems uncomfortable with it is Forrest, and that is because his coloring makes it difficult for his peers not to look at him curiously.

 

Chara put his hands on his hips and then lightly drums his chest with his fists, earning him a wave of gentle snorts from his peers. Madame Overseer indulges this but raises an eyebrow at him as well. He gets the hint and folds his hands behind his back more politely, continuing to smirk about it. Goldie comes around to gather the pile of clothes from them all while Madame Overseer clears her throat to speak again.

 

“This is only the first step for all of you. It will probably take you several days on foot to reach monster territory. Your first major landmark is there.” 

 

She points in the direction of a smaller range of mountains, hills really, to the south of them. All eight of the graduates begin making mental calculations, trying to get a bearing on their sense of direction and the position of the sun. They have all been through computer simulations to learn the route they have to take. They have been taught how to find water, how to discern what is edible, and how to treat wounds out here with nothing but their memory and their bare bodies.

 

This is important. This is all part of the game they are going to play. Every so often, monsters on the surface go looking for ‘wild’ humans to add to their populations of human pets, and the Tamers have continued to uphold that illusion of humanity as a bunch of simple beasts.

 

 

 

The journey down the mountain is less than pleasant. The enforced nudity was entertaining at first, and the atmosphere around them is undoubtedly calming and freeing and wondrous to behold. Frisk was not prepared for the ground beneath her feet to be so prickly with dried-up vegetation and sharp rocks, however. It doesn’t take them all long to start limping a bit. Autumn had suggested that they wrap grass and leaves around their feet to protect them, but Skylar pointed out that it might count as ‘tool use’, which they aren’t supposed to be capable of.

 

When they reach the first landmark they make camp, and go looking for edibles near a stream. Frisk is relieved to plunge her feet into the cold water while looking for plants and small animals. Mostly they all gather insects and some bitter weeds to chew on with mild distaste. Their normal meals are relatively tasteless, so everything is new and interesting, even if it is bitter or slimy or wriggly.

 

Chara manages to kill a snake with a rock, and makes Frisk curl her lip at the gorey scene of him trying to extract meat from it without a knife. Her twin is very pleased with himself over the little hunt. Frisk is surprised when he offers her some of the meat, since it was *his* after all. It tastes a bit better than the dandelions and snails she tried.

 

He surprises her again when the group finds shelter for the night and settles down to sleep, quietly talking amongst themselves and looking at real stars. Chara gently tugs her away from the others, while they are distracted by a particularly animated conversation.It catches her off guard. She would have expected pinching or hair-pulling from him instead.

 

The two of them speak alone in whispers. It is too dark to use hand signs.

 

“Are you scared?”

 

“...”

 

“Don’t be stupid. I know you, Frisk. There’s nothing to worry about. We’re both strong enough for this.”

 

“...We don’t know everything. It’s not going to be like doing a training exercise.”

 

“That’s whats fun about it. If we knew everything it would be boring.”

 

“It’s not a game.”

 

“No, it’s the best game. Don’t you love it when you win at something that’s hard? Someone sets something in front of you and expects you to fail, because they think they’re better than you, but you beat them anyway?”

 

“...I don’t know about that. For me it’s more like...”

 

“What?”

 

“Proving that what I’m feeling is the right way to feel. I want to make someone else feel that way too.”

 

“Influence.”

 

“No...I don’t think it’s that exactly...I just—”

 

“It’s Influence. You’re really good at it.” 

 

Frisk furrows her brows in the dark and doesn’t know what to say after that. She doesn’t know how to articulate what she’s thinking. She doesn’t have a simple word or concept to express it. To her, the power of Influence is a type of force, like an attack against another Soul. Forcing someone to change.

 

What she wants is...

 

“Connection. I like convincing others to make a Connection...With me.”

 

It’s Chara’s turn to be speechless, but Frisk can feel his eyes boring into her in the dark. Then she feels his hands groping at her, reaching around her, touching her face and her hair. He breathes in her ear, and she can’t tell by the tone of his voice whether he’s angry or just excited.

 

“You convinced me.”

 

They tumble back onto the grass, and now comes the expected pinching and pulling, pawing and biting from him. Frisk pushes and pulls back at him just as hard. This is how they always are with each other. This strange love-hate relationship.

 

They are supposed to be rivals, and Chara has never liked it when Frisk reminds him that he doesn’t treat her as ruthlessly as everyone else. It’s his one weak spot. He establishes over and over, that he is the stronger twin, daring her to prove him wrong.

 

Usually, she never does. But in moments like these, when she presses him, when she throws emotions into their talks...Chara doubts himself, and wonders if he’s really the weaker one. He hates her for it.

 

He loves her for it too. For pressing his buttons. For being strong enough to handle whatever he throws at her. She doesn’t complain when he starts rubbing up against her in the midst of their little tussle. She knows she won already.

 

Frisk knows this might be her last chance to do something like this with him. The monsters will probably separate them after the capture. Even if they aren’t separated from each other, she’ll have to avoid encouraging this from now on. She won’t have access to hormone pills anymore, and she knows without them she could get pregnant.

 

She doesn’t want that. She just wants comfort and reassurance. Connection. Something that’s hers.

 

Chara just wants to establish his dominance. He pulls away afterwards to catch his breath, leaving her feeling empty again.

 

“Don’t be stupid, Frisk...We don’t need to worry...”

 

Frisk hears rather than sees his teeth flash at her and it’s as if he read her mind, suddenly.

 

“You’re already mine, and I don’t let anyone steal from me.”

 

 

 

 

The group continues on for two more days, following the route they’ve memorized and camping near water when it gets dark. They’re all tired, sore, and hungry. They’re also caked in mud, to keep the biting insects at bay when night comes. At some point, they come across a ledge, and collectively stare at the view they can gain from it.

 

The world is bigger than they ever could have imagined. They can see the landscape at the base of the mountain and beyond, where the stream they’ve been following turns into a river, and there is an expanse of green and brown flat land with none of the tall plants that cover Mt. Ebott. Here and there across the flat plane are clusters of grey and lines with something moving along them. From the distance they look like ant trails.

 

Prim punches the air, in the direction of the largest cluster of grey, then signs to her peers to say they’ve found a monster city. That is where they will probably be living after today.

 

Now that they’ve seen just how close they are to their destination, they all maintain complete and total silence for the rest of the trip. They are even hesitant to sign now, knowing they can’t let the monsters see it. Part of Frisk wishes she could just jump from that ledge and get to where they’re going that much faster.

 

On the final day Frisk is just numbly moving forward, somehow having moved past the discomfort and exhaustion in her body, like a determined ghost. She briefly considered finding something to float down the stream so she wouldn’t have to walk anymore, but abandoned the idea. Her body is vulnerable and fragile now. It’s a plan that’s outside of her training, so she doesn’t even know if it’s feasible.

 

Instead, she tries to recall all the things she’s been taught, and recites them in her mind. She tries to imagine what sort of monsters she might meet. She tries to envision a future where she returns to the bunker with Chara and...

 

The ground beneath their feet rumbles. They all reached the flat plane early in the morning and have been largely trying not to let the feeling of being so out in the open bother them. Frisk looks up in a daze and sees figures moving closer to them. Monsters with too many legs running to meet them. No. Monsters riding on the backs of other monsters? Strange.

 

Her peers all realize what’s going on and become alert, scattering in different directions and trying to seem alarmed. Like they weren’t expecting this. Like they’re just a bunch of herd animals. Frisk doesn’t have the energy to run, so she just stands in the middle of the field, watching everything happen.

 

The monsters seem rather excited, circling around their prey. Predictably, Forrest is their first target. The most desirable pet, with the most uncommon coloration. Frisk sees one of the armor-clad hunters hurl something glowing and bright at him, and he falls to the ground, unable to move.

 

Chara makes a kind of howling noise, sprinting full force and kind of zigzagging about. He wants to be difficult to catch, because it’s more fun that way. He gets his wish, as Frisk watches the other five of their group get taken down one by one, until it comes down to the monsters struggling to get ahold of this last noisy troublemaker.

 

She’s so spaced out watching them all that she almost doesn’t see the monster that has quietly urged their ride closer to her. She snaps her head up to stare wide-eyed at them, and they slow down to stare back at her, before dismounting and crouching down to the ground. The monster lifts up their helmet, and Frisk sees lavender hair spill out around a scaled-face. They refuse to break eye contact with her.

 

They’re smiling at her, and slowly edging forward, as if afraid to spook her. Frisk examines the gradient of blue and green scales across their body, the pale underbelly evidenced by the color of their throat, the fangs and clawed hands...They have yellow eyes that remind her of Goldie’s fur. Without thinking, Frisk smiles back, sharing a moment of mutual fascination with her would-be captor.

 

They get close enough to touch, and finally Frisk decides to play the game. She shies away just the tiniest bit, making her posture uncertain. The monster freezes up, a hand held out in mid-air towards her. It says something to her she can’t understand, but the tone of it’s—his?—voice is gentle and meant to be soothing.

 

It touches her cheek, timidly, and moves the hand up to pet her hair. Frisk bobs her head around it, then grips the hand with her fingers in a childish sort of way, moving her nose around the monster’s fingertips as if sniffing them curiously. The monster seems kind of paralyzed with awe, just watching her. His hands are at least three times as big as hers.

 

Then, as if suddenly remembering why he’s there in the first place, the monster blinks himself back to reality and swiftly hoists her into the air. She lets out a little squeal of only half-fake alarm as the monster’s arms put pressure around her to restrict her movement. After a moment of her staring up at him, but otherwise offering no further resistance, something cool and humming snakes it’s way around her torso.

 

Glowing lime-green lines, like thin ropes, form an intricate knot pattern around her skin, creating a magic harness. It’s secure, but not uncomfortable, and as the monster lifts her up onto the back of the larger creature he was riding to sit in front of him, she realizes she can still move around just fine. Judging by the tether attached to the monster’s closed fist, she just can’t run away.

 

The shifting of muscle underneath Frisk as they begin to move is rhythmic and pleasant, and she’s happy to not have to stand anymore. She spies her fellow humans being dragged behind the hunters mounts in magical nets, and feels a bubble of amusement at the sight. When the monster who captured her passes the monster who captured Chara however, she nearly laughs out loud.

 

Chara apparently was too feisty to go into a net, and is slung over the rump of his captor’s steed, bound tightly with rusty-red magical ropes. He even has a gag in his mouth. She squeezes her eyes a little smugly at her twin as they make eye contact with each other, Frisk sitting poised like royalty, the hand of her captor resting lightly on her belly to prevent her from falling. Chara gives her the dirtiest look he ever has.

 

The two monsters converse with each other a moment, likely comparing their catches, before whistling to the rest of their own group and speeding up their rides. It won’t be long now until they reach New-New city, and they’re all going to be paid handsomely for this lucky find.

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Thankyou for reading! Please have a gander at my Mastodon page for updates on my work! <3

[ https://fandom.ink/@3ff3rviskus ]  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: I really like how this chapter came out!! Thanks for all the kudos and comments on the first one! I’ll probly re-write the first one a bit later on, since I’m not really happy with the flow of it. This chapter is in the monster’s POV, and has Papyton and classic Fontcest. No real warnings except for maybe Sans being a bit, ehem, *hard* on himself. Hehe.]

 

 

“Oh, sweetie...”

 

Mettaton responds sympathetically to each pause in Papyrus’s ongoing tumble of words, becoming increasingly concerned. His eyes are wide, blinking thick eyelashes slowly, eyebrows swept upwards towards his hairline. One hand has been brought to his mouth, where he resists the urge to gnaw lightly at a polished fingernail. The other hand nervously strokes the hair of one of his humans that’s decided to curl up in his lap and give him a little hug around his soul chamber. Two other humans are leaning on either side of Papyrus’s legs to keep the skeleton company while he sits across from the pop-star in a stylish chair in MTT’s private suite.

 

“HE BARELY EATS, HE’S SLEEPING ALL THE TIME AGAIN A-AND I...I don’t know what to do anymore...’Ton, it really scares me. EVERYTIME HE DOES THIS AND I—hck—PART OF ME WANTS TO JUST LET HIM ALONE AND HOPE HE FINALLY TAKES BETTER CARE OF HIMSELF BUT...I DON’T WANT MY BROTHER TO FALL DOWN, ‘TON! I—hck—I think I’d fall down too. I HATE IT WHEN HE GETS LIKE THIS AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!”

 

Papyrus digs gloved phalanges into the sides of his skull, tapping a booted foot against the fuschia carpet. He’s still in his navy-toned police uniform, though he’s tugged his tie loose and his hat is sitting in his lap.

 

Mettaton watches him a moment, then rests his cheek in one hand thoughtfully, inky-black hair cascading to the side.

 

“Perhaps something set him off, darling.”

 

The robot’s tone is more matter-of-fact than hypothetical, but he searches Papyrus’s face and waits for an answer anyway. The bony ridges above the skeleton’s sockets furrow down a bit, and the corners of his jaw-hinge crease downwards as he shakes his skull at the comment. He also has a case of the hiccups.

 

After a moment, Papyrus’s expression becomes less severe and his breathing gets better. He looks more calculating than upset now, like he’s puzzling something out. The corners of Mettaton’s lips perk upwards fondly at the sight. Officer Papyrus has only been a member of the New-New police force for about the past five years, and the ghost-monster sitting with him knows that they made an excellent choice in signing him on.

 

When Papyrus first started his work there, the rest of the force found him simple but endearing, posting him at low-impact jobs such as parking meter duty. He took it all in stride of course, always very serious about any task he was given. At some point however, they realized he was actually rather brilliant at putting pieces of things together. This didn’t just mean the puzzle toys at his desk, or gluing together a broken vase from the lobby, either. He helped lieutenant Undyne crack a long-winded kidnapping case by suggesting things the other officers hadn’t even considered.

 

Mettaton would love to see his bony sweetheart become a detective one day.

 

Papyrus was too busy trying to think of how all this got started to notice how MTT quietly watched him. If he could figure out the source, maybe he could figure out how to fix the problem. It didn’t help that Sans stubbornly refused to talk about the full extent of whatever was bothering him on a regular basis. It was a trait that both brothers had, the ability to convince themselves that everything was ok, even when it clearly was not. Papyrus was better at actually doing the convincing. Sans was more good at pretending.

 

The tall skeleton remembered a time when his big bro was much more animated, though he’s certain that even back then Sans was a pretender. To Papyrus who was a child back then though, it had been just the right amount of pretend. Sans had always known how to make his younger brother laugh, or turn a bad situation into a game, or make Papyrus feel safe so he could sleep for the night...The officer looks sad thinking about it.

 

“I THINK...HE DID MUCH BETTER WHEN HE HAD SOMEONE TO LOOK AFTER AND TAKE CARE OF. HE’S ALWAYS SO SUPPORTIVE OF ME BUT...I THINK HE MISSES IT, NOW THAT I’M NOT A BABYBONES ANYMORE.”

 

The pop star hums thoughtfully at that and tilts his head to regard the two humans offering comfort to his sweetheart, and the one in his own lap. His little darlings always brighten his day, even when he’s worn out from performances or dealing with asshole producers. He’s a busy man, and taking care of one human can be a lot of work, let alone three...but it’s completely worth it. They make his Soul swell with affection everytime he sees them, and he knows the feeling is mutual.

 

“Have you thought about getting him a pet?”

 

Papyrus blinks his sockets at the question and looks around at the humans in the room as if seeing them for the first time. He was too aggravated to pay them much attention before.

 

In Mettaton’s lap is a human with a really beautiful coloring he’s never seen before in his life. Their skin is pale and their eyes are red and they have hair so white it reminds him of winter. Mettaton has put some pastel streaks of color in this one’s hair, most likely his own brand of hair-dye and most likely human-safe. On closer inspection Papyrus sees that even the human’s _eyelashes_ are white.

 

The human sitting to his right is the color of a very dark wood, like ebony. Their hair seems to stand up on it’s own in a dark glossy mane, full of tiny curls. MTT has left it undecorated and Papyrus can see why; it is striking and impressive all on it’s own! The human’s eyes are dark and expressive, when they look up to meet the skeleton’s sockets. They give him a little smirk.

 

The one on his left has copper hair and their skin has random patches of that light and dark earthy tone humans are known for. They have a rainbow of ribbons braided into their hair, and seem to lean lazily against Papyrus’s chair like they either want a nap or want to be petted.

 

All three of them have very fashionable outfits on, like they are miniature monsters. They also have physical collars, instead of simple magical ones. The collars are elaborately crafted and match all of their clothes...It gives Papyrus the impression that Mettaton’s humans have a larger wardrobe than Mettaton himself.

 

“NO...I HAVE NOT. HE CAN’T EVEN TAKE CARE OF THE HOUSEPLANTS I BRING IN SOMETIMES.”

 

“But you said he did better when he had something to take care of. I think it could be good for him, Papy.”

 

“BUT IF HE DOES NOT TAKE CARE OF IT, THEN I WILL HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF IT! NORMALLY I WOULD NOT MIND BUT IT IS...DIFFICULT ALREADY WITH MY JOB AND MY BROTHER BOTH NEEDING MY ATTENTION.”

 

“It would give him something to get out of bed for everyday, and it would give him some company when you’re not at home. Humans are a lot more—uhm, _stimulating_ than plants, darling.”

 

Mettaton looks down at the human in his lap and it’s breathing gets a little funny for a second. If Papyrus didn’t know any better, he’d swear it had been trying not to laugh at a joke. He crosses his arms, wavering, but still not fully talked into the idea. He doesn’t even know how to take care of a human, and besides that, they are incredibly expensive. You have to be rich or be a beloved member of society and receive one as a gift in order to own one.

 

Mettaton gently lifts the human from his lap and sets them down on the carpet, then uncrosses his legs and gets up from the table. He walks over near Papyrus and leans in so their faces are almost touching, playful and flirtatious now. The robot drums the fingers of a manicured-looking hand on the little table that held their hors d’oeuvre’s for this meeting.

 

“Papyrus, sweetie, I think we’ll have to reschedule this little date of ours.”

 

Papyrus looks both crestfallen and guilty at that. Of course. This was supposed to be a date, and here he had gone and done nothing but talk about his brother. Talk about his own problems. He was certain that sort of thing was enough to kill any romantic mood. Papyrus hangs his head just a little bit.

 

“I am very sorry...NEXT TIME—“

 

Mettaton shushes him and cuts his speech off with a hand placed over the skeleton’s teeth.

 

“We’re going somewhere else right now, Papy. Oh, just come with me and at least _look_ at some humans! If you find the right one for Sans, I’ll pay for it, and all the things it needs. I hate to see you so miserable, and I really do think it could help him get better.”

 

Papyrus’s eye-lights flicker at him in bewilderment, and he moves MTT’s hand away so his response won’t be muffled.

 

“YOU’RE GOING TO _BUY_ A HUMAN FOR SANS?! ‘TON, WE CAN’T POSSIBLY—“

 

“I insist. I won’t hear of you trying to pay me back, either. It’ll be a gift from me.”

 

“BUT WHAT IF HE DOESN’T LIKE IT? I HAVEN’T ASKED HIM! HE DOESN’T LIKE SURPRISES!”

 

“If he doesn’t like it I’ll just find the human a new home. No pressure, darling. Just give it a chance and let him try it, _please_.”

 

 

 

 

The home of officer Papyrus and his brother Sans is empty, save for one person, and if anyone else were there they would hear the unmistakable sounds of...masturbating.

 

Sans keeps waking up, when he’d much rather be sleeping, and it annoys him. He doesn’t feel like eating, and he doesn’t want to leave the house, so using greasy food or a nice helping of vinegar to make him sleepy again are out of the question. That means he has to find a way to relax and wear himself out, and if he’s gotta be awake, at least he should try to make it pleasant until sleep returns.

 

So he touches himself until he passes out. Wakes up. Does it again. Repeats the process. This is probably his third session today. He knows he hasn’t eaten all day, and he’s barely had anything to drink. He knows he needs to at some point, from the foggy and heavy way everything around him feels. His stomach has tried to form a few times in preparation for food, but ends up dissipating when he focuses on arousal instead.

 

He doesn’t have enough energy to maintain both digestion and orgasms right now, since they both use up a lot of magic. Each time he does this without food it gets more and more difficult to finish, but he doesn’t mind that. He’ll either cum first or fall asleep first. Either way it’s a win-win for him.

 

Besides, it’s the build up during stuff like this that he likes more than the end result. That’s another reason why he’s eager for sleep. When he finishes a session all by himself, he always feels...gross. Like he’s just done something awful. That annoys him too. Why can’t he just jerk off and then go about the day with a smile on his face like most people?

 

 ** _Because you always gotta think about nasty shit, you disgusting fuck.._**.

 

And just like that, an image comes to him, unbidden, of Papyrus pulling on his cleaning gloves and giving him a disgusted look and declaring that Sans is positively filthy. Papyrus bending him over the kitchen counter—no wait, dragging him to the bathroom and—no wait, Papyrus taking him outside to the backyard and making him undress like he’s a stubborn child and hosing him down with cold water outside where other monsters might see him.

 

Yeah. That could work.

 

Sans pauses from where he was just tracing his claws absently along different parts of his body. He knows where those cleaning gloves are. Knows Papyrus won’t be back for awhile yet, since he’s out with...someone else. Someone that’s not Sans.

 

It’s an ugly, selfish thought and he hates himself for it. Even though he knows that, he still can’t help feeling the curl of vindictiveness that runs up his spine. He doesn’t want to be angry. He wants Paps to be happy and healthy and popular and everything that Sans isn’t. He really, really does.

 

But he also wants to make a mess out of spite. He wants attention. He wants his brother to focus on him just as hard as Sans focuses on Papyrus. He wants a stern lecture to turn into something more caring and possessive. He wants...

 

Sans rolls himself out of bed and goes to the kitchen. He checks the fridge first, and finds an unopened package of hot dogs. He tosses it into the pristine sink, and also sets a bottle of ketchup on the counter. He’ll need a snack after this, if he doesn’t want to sleep through Papyrus being home.

 

A little prickle of mischievous excitement rolls through his Soul and body when he opens the drawer and retrieves the thick rubber gloves. The glove’s fingers are a little too long for his hands but he’ll make do.

 

Papyrus has other gloves of course. Leather ones for work. Warm woolen ones for winter. Softer fabric ones for wearing with nice clothes on special occasions...But Sans can’t easily wash those and cover up the evidence.

 

Whenever Papyrus helps him calm down from a bad day with a little soul massage, his brother always takes his gloves off so they won’t get dirty. It drives Sans nuts with frustration. First of all, getting them dirty is kind of the point. Second of all...it feels a lot better to have material gliding over and caressing him than hard bone.

 

Sans knows he probably wouldn’t have such a complex over it, if it hadn’t been for that one time when they’d both been helping each other out with their heats and Papyrus was too far gone to care about things like messing up his clothes. Now Sans has some kind of...fabric-based turn-on. Dammit. Something else to add to the list of weird shit that makes his Soul tingle.

 

He makes his way to the bathroom and sets the gloves over the sink, then strips off his shorts and tosses them in the overflowing laundry bin. He should really wash those, he knows he should, instead of waiting for Paps to get fed up with it and do it himself. Between his constant state of exhaustion and the warm feeling he gets from seeing Paps take care of him however, he never really gets around to doing what he should.

 

The pile of clothes looks so daunting though, and he’s already worn himself out today. So, maybe he’s not up for doing the laundry this time...but if he eats and takes a shower...that might make his brother a little happy. His thoughts return to the fantasy of being cleaned off behind the house, as a punishment. What better way to motivate yourself to do something you don’t feel like doing, than to make it into something more interesting?

 

Now bare-boned and ready to take a shower, he puts on the gloves and turns the water on, letting the water rinse off the rubber just in case there’s anything especially dirty on it. It probably wouldn’t hurt Sans any but, on the off-chance Paps decides to give him a good rub-down in real life and sees some stray food particles wedged in San’s bones...Yeah. That wouldn’t go well. Plus it might be itchy.

 

Back to his fantasy. He lets the water run cold, and twists the shower head to increase the water pressure. It helps him better imagine being sprayed with a hose. He shivers as the water trickles over his Soul, and pictures himself sitting on the grass outside, protesting the treatment and trying to fend the water off...

 

_Papyrus has hooked the phalanges of one hand under San’s clavicle though, so he isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. The look he gives Sans dares him to even CONSIDER teleporting away, and Sans shakes. He’s chilled to the bone and humiliated and his younger brother is looking at him so intensely._

_“HOLD STILL, SANS.”_

_And then Sans has great globs of liquid soap squirted all over him, and he can’t help but blush at the sight of it running and dripping down his bones. Of course Paps would choose something orange-colored and probably orange-scented. It’s just dish-soap, but goddamn if it doesn’t look just like ectoplasm. Was it intentional? Is Papyrus TRYING to get him worked up?_

_Yes. The look on Paps face tells him as much. Sans feels his whole body prickle with warm energy and he shudders, Soul thumping harder in his ribs. He sits down obediently and tries to relax, even if he’s still feeling exposed and looking nervously around for one of their neighbors to spot him._

_Papyrus’s face softens and he sets the hose down on the ground. Sans feels the water pooling in the grass around his legs and tailbone. Then the gloves are on him, diligently working the soap into every nook and cranny of his body and covering him in suds. His brother hums a little tune as his hands travel up San’s arm bones, rub gently with thumb and forefinger around the clavicle, and then massage the small vertebrae of his brother’s neck._

 

Back in the real world, Sans tilts his skull to the side and groans, lathering his own body with the bar of soap they keep in the shower and using the gloves to rub and twist at his bones. He mirrors his touches to the touches he imagines Papyrus giving him. At some point in his fantasy, Sans talks Papyrus into letting Sans wash him too. The younger skeleton scoffs at the implication that he needs one, as he clearly took a shower earlier in the morning...but he strips down anyway.

 

_Right. So there they are, kneeling together in the grass, Sans gently biting at Paps jawbone and working at his brother’s spine and hip joints with the suds. Papyrus has Sans hoisted into his lap, tightly gripping the older skeleton’s femurs to keep him in place. Their bones are both afire with their magic, lighting up the bubbles that cling to them. Rib to rib, facing each other, their Souls gravitate towards each other, and the Connection happens._

_The magic intermingles, Sans suddenly feels ten times more energy than he usually has, and thoughts and feelings blend between them. They don’t need to direct each other anymore, since they can feel the sensations of their counterpart as well as hear their thinking vibrate through their whole beings. By the time a neighbor does spot them together while taking out the trash for the week, it doesn’t matter to Sans anymore._

_Papyrus isn’t embarrassed, so why should he be? In fact, Sans feels a surge of something like pride and possessiveness from his brother. Oh. Yes, Sans feels that way too. He’s so glad, that they both feel that way. Right now they are the center of each other’s universe, and...The Soul bond mixes with something more primal. Oh. But how could that be? Neither of them are in heat, so why...?_

 

Sans swears to himself in the shower and breathes heavier. He has his soul cradled in one gloved hand, strokes it with his other hand, and has his tongue out licking it every so often, trying to coax an orgasm out of the poor tired thing with as much stimulation as possible. He can’t actually conjure a set of genitals to play with right now, it’ll probably be months before that can happen, but...he can remember what it’s like.

 

Their heat only comes along about once a year, usually in the winter time, and at about the same time, since they live together still. Their bodies have synced up from being around each other day in and day out. They never touch each other’s Souls during a heat. The last thing they need is a little baby bones running around, and Sans would never forgive himself if that happened.

 

No one cares who helps someone else get through their heat, even if that someone is a family member, because it’s such a strong urge. It’s not uncommon for something like that to happen between people living under the same roof. But...to impregnate a family member with your magic? That’s not so good. That’s the mark of something twisted and controlling, or of someone who’s so desperate they can’t get anyone else to touch them. Why would anyone willingly create a monster child with family, when most monsters can have numerous partners at any given time?

 

Sure, Sans can admit he’s one of those desperate sad sacks that nobody wants to be around except his bro...But even he’s not comfortable with the thought of actually making a baby. Not in real life, anyway. For his sessions though, it’s something that helps him get off much quicker when he’s struggling to finish. It makes his Soul twitch violently because he _knows_ it’s fucked up, and stuff that’s fucked up always sends an awful thrill through him.

 

As if to prove his point, his Soul finally spasms, sending a smaller-than-usual spatter of glowing blue ectoplasm all over the shower walls and himself. He puts it weakly back inside his ribcage and catches his breath, feeling just awful while the water rinses everything down the drain. Normally he likes to take his time and finish with the thought of something tender and loving, but he doesn’t have enough energy to last out that long, and he really wants to be awake when Pap gets home. Rushing always makes him so feel disgusting, though. Dammit.

 

He sincerely wants to get clean. He wants to actually cook the hot dogs instead of eating them cold from the package. He wants to make dinner for Paps, and do the laundry, and wear clean clothes. He wants to apologize for being a lump for the past week and making Papyrus worry about him...anything to make him feel less scummy than he does right now.

 

So, bolstered by the weird high that he sometimes gets from finishing a session, he does all of those things. Usually it just knocks him out, but sometimes, it’s like a reset button. He scrubs himself clean, puts on a little cologne, and drags the laundry bin to the washer with a towel wrapped around his hips. He puts the cleaning gloves in the dryer for just a little bit, so they won’t be suspiciously damp when his brother gets home.

 

His stomach attempts to form again and this time he lets it, heading back to the kitchen while it gurgles insistently at him. Food sounds great right now. Sans glances at the oven-clock. He’s got about an hour or so until Paps gets home, if his brother actually follows curfew, which he usually does. The thought makes him wince. Should he call and find out, so dinner doesn’t get cold, or will that seem like he’s being clingy and intruding on Paps time with Mettaton?

 

He sighs and decides to make dinner _without_ calling first. He can always put a plate of leftovers in the fridge with a nice little note if Paps is late getting home. It’s been awhile since they’ve left notes for each other...

 

He warms up a frozen container of Paps homemade spaghetti sauce in the magicwave and fries up his hot dogs while he boils some noodles. Thankfully, since his brother is so fastidious about everything, it’s easy enough for Sans to simply pull out everything he needs. Ready-made sauce the way Paps likes it. Clean dishes and silverware. A bottle of hard cider....okay, maybe that’ll be too strong. Paps isn’t supposed to know he has it stashed either. No cider, Sans.

 

He pours some milk into a couple nice glasses instead, and stows them in the fridge so they’ll stay cold. While he’s at it, he supposes baking some frozen garlic bread couldn’t hurt either. At this point, he’s feeling a lot better about himself and hums a little tune while he works.

 

He’s really looking forward to Papyrus getting home so they can have dinner together...it’s been such a long time since he cooked...he used to do it all the time when they were kids. His cheekbones tint blue just a little. Maybe he can talk Paps into cuddling with him on the couch and watching a little TV, too.

 

He’s so tired right now, but it’ll all be worth it, if he just waits. Just a bit longer.

 

Sans is stirring the sauce around in a pot to heat it up the rest of the way, and smiling sleepily to himself, knowing that the clothes in the dryer will be done soon, when he hears something. He freezes in disbelief. It’s the sound of a key in the front door. His neck creaks as he turns his skull in slow motion. Paps is early. Did his date go badly?

 

Oh. Shit. He’s still wearing the bath towel. He teleports to the laundry room in a little puff of crackling magic, and stops the dryer so he can get dressed in a hurry. Sans had briefly, _very briefly_ considered just putting on the pink cooking apron and greeting his brother that way. But that would be inappropriate, especially if Paps Soul is hurting from an argument with the monster he’s dating.

 

Paps needs a big brother right now, not some flirtatious loser masquerading as one. He hears the door swing open and Papyrus wiping his boots on the welcome mat.

 

“SANS? BROTHER, ARE YOU AWAKE YE—...”

 

Papyrus must have seen the pot on the stove and the plates on the table. Sans teleports back into the kitchen, dressed in a white-blue-black patterned flannel shirt with rolled sleeves and some baggy black pants. Papyrus stares at him.

 

“O-OH. ARE YOU—WERE YOU PLANNING ON—UH. I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE GOING TO—“

 

The uncharacteristic stammering has Sans confused for a moment, but the way his brother is looking at him makes his Soul do a happy little jump for a second. He almost grins widely, until he realizes that Paps doesn’t exactly look happy, in spite of the appreciative look the orange eye-lights are giving him. Then it hits him, and it’s his turn to sputter, skull turning bright blue. With the way the dining table is set up, and him dressing so nicely, Paps must think he invited someone else over for a date of his own.

 

“ _oh._ n-no paps, i wasn’t planning anything i just...felt like looking nice today...”

 

There’s an awkward pause where Papyrus fidgets nervously with his hands and Sans rubs a hand over the back of his own skull. Sans hates himself a little for thinking it, but there’s something nice about Paps slightly disheveled clothes and anxious body language right now. He’s usually so pristine and confident. Shit. Now is definitely not the time for that.

 

“OH. UHM. THAT’S GOOD, I GUESS. I. I MEAN, WE...’TON AND I BROUGHT YOU A PRESENT. I WANTED TO MAKE SURE YOU WERE, UHM...DECENT. BEFORE HE CAME IN.”

 

Oh. Hell no. No, no, no! A wave of unpleasant feelings washes over Sans at this bit of information. Mettaton is here? Paps invited the super-wealthy, sassy, and probably somewhat judgmental pop-star to their _house_? Sans tries to control his breathing, but he feels so very small suddenly.

 

He knows he’s not that great to be around, and he knows MTT could hand his brother the whole city on a platter if he wanted to. He knows most of the food he just prepared was already premade and all he did was heat it up. He knows it’s really not that difficult to do a load of laundry. He knows most people shower every single day without any difficulty.

 

Even all of that aside, he wanted to spend time with Papyrus _alone_. He’s accepted the idea of sharing his brother with others so Paps can be happy, but this just feels intrusive. They had their time with Papyrus today already, it’s Sans turn! He realizes after thinking that how childish it sounds. Sans takes a deep breath and puts on his best lackadaisical act, grinning lazily and rolling back his shoulders. He’s the mature one in this situation. He has to be.

 

“oh yeah? that’s awful cool of you guys, bro. ya didn’t have to go and do that for me.”

 

“Yes, I can see that...that it may have been unnecessary now.”

 

Sans blinks his eye sockets at his brother. Papyrus only ever used quiet tones when he was especially troubled about something. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d whisper things to Sans when they were in heat, too, but Sans can tell it’s the former reason, not the latter.

 

Papyrus seems to be looking sorrowfully at the kitchen for a moment, then realizes the burner is still on and silently moves to shut it off so the sauce doesn’t burn. Sans is still puzzling over this, deep concern blooming in his Soul, when he hears an airy voice call from outside the house.

 

“Papy, sweetie? Is he home? Oh. Hello there.”

 

Sans usually calls his brother _Paps_ not Papy, but for some reason hearing the cute little nickname still bothers him. Paps is a name you give a young skeleton who wants to feel cool like his bro. Papy is...it just feels disrespectful, somehow. Sans can’t quite pinpoint why.

 

Mettaton is peering almost timidly at the two skeletons from behind the front door that was left ajar. His face is very pretty, and the nervous smile he directs at Sans would almost be charming, if Sans wasn’t feeling angry and slightly suspicious right now. Was Mettaton the reason his little bro seemed so upset? Sans feels his sockets darken.

 

MTT must have seen the look too, because he suddenly bites his lower lip and looks back at the older skeleton a little fearfully. To Sans surprise, Papyrus quickly walks over to the door, as if to prevent Mettaton from coming inside the house any further. Huh. He assumed either his bro or MTT would have invited themselves in for a group dinner or something, the way things had been going.

 

It gives him a strange sense of relief, to know that his brother was somehow aware that bringing someone into the house without asking him first would be overstepping boundaries; even if that someone was Papyrus’s main squeeze. He feels his anger melt away. Maybe if this pretty-boy plays nice enough, Sans will invite him in for dinner himself.

 

He walks over to the door and casually extends a hand for Mettaton to shake, as if this guy were just a new neighbor and not someone really stupidly famous. As if he doesn’t give a damn. He gives the robot a little wink.

 

“hey there yourself. s’about time we got introduced. i’m sans, but my bro probly already told ya that.”

 

Both of the other two monsters look startled by this, but MTT recovers quickly with a practiced sort of grace and takes Sans hand. Instead of shaking it however, he gives it a little gracious kiss to the knuckle bones. The two skeletons stare at him, and Papyrus looks really fretful, like something bad is about to happen. Luckily for Papyrus, Sans finds himself laughing instead of getting angry about it. This guy...he just took the flirty act Sans uses to charm new people and threw it right back at him.

 

“yeah—hh-hffhck—ok, enough of that. what’s this ‘present’ paps mentioned.”

 

Mettaton flashes him a bright smile and ducks fully back outside, waving him to follow after, excitement evident. Papyrus gives him a nervous look but smiles reassuredly and goes through the door next. When Sans steps outside, feeling a weird sense of trepidation suddenly, he is greeted by the sight of a large pink and chrome vehicle parked in front of the house.

 

There are three very well-kept humans eyeing them from inside the vehicle, which Mettaton has left running so that his pets can listen to the radio. Sans hears a snatch of what sounds like MTT’s own voice doing a commercial between songs. The robot taps the glass of the windows lightly as he passes them, cooing when the humans give him little smiles, then walks over to the back of the vehicle.

 

Papyrus leans with his spine against the side of MTT’s ride and grins more genuinely at Sans this time.

 

“I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, BROTHER. THEY ASSURED ME THAT THIS ONE IS VERY NICE AND—“

 

“Oh she’s a sweet little darling! If I didn’t already have three I would have bought her for myself! You’re going to love her, Sans!”

 

Sans feels a bit of sweat start to form on his skull as he walks to the back of the car uncertainly. MTT opens the door to the spacious trunk and there, staring wide-eyed up at him, is a little tan human with glossy hair and a little button nose.

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Thankyou for reading! Please have a gander at my Mastodon page for updates on my work! <3

[ https://fandom.ink/@3ff3rviskus ]  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: This chapter took me a while to write, and I ended up breaking my original plan for it into two separate chapters! No warnings for this chapter. It’s Frisk’s POV.]

Reaching monster territory feels like a great victory at first. Frisk dozes off during the ride that leads them closer and closer to the city every time she opens her eyes. When she lays back against the stomach of the monster who caught her, she can feel him absently rubbing a thumb over her tummy, and there’s a faint buzz of something on the edges of her Soul. A sense of satisfaction? An eagerness to return home? Something else...that she’s not quite familiar with, that seems a bit like...affection?

 

When they reach the gates of the city however, the buzz of magic gets louder, and she can’t sleep anymore. Frisk blinks her eyes open and then gapes, leaning her head back as far as it will go in an attempt to look up to see the top of the wall that surrounds New-New city. She can’t even see where it ends. She realizes with an icy stab of fear that she could never climb something so tall.

 

There are several dozen monsters milling about the entrance, waiting in a line to be inspected before being allowed inside. Most of them are staring at the hunting party with interest. Suddenly, one of them starts yelling something in their direction. Directly behind her, her captor yells back and Frisk lets out a tiny squeak of alarm. Why are they yelling?! Is there an emergency happening? She covers her ears with her hands.

 

There’s a pause, and she feels puzzlement brush against her Soul, then amusement. Her body shakes from the force when the monster behind her starts chuckling deeply, and she shrinks in on herself, ears still covered. He seems to notice her discomfort and starts petting her hair, saying something a bit quieter, in that soothing tone he used before.

 

The line moves forward bit by bit, and when they finally ride in past the gates, Frisk instantly wants to disappear underground forever. The NOISE! The SMELLS! The COLORS! She can’t process everything that’s going on around her in that moment. There are so many monsters, going in so many different directions, saying so many LOUD things at once. It would be overwhelming enough already, for someone who has lived in the bunker all their life...But to add to the cacophony is the assault on all sides of her Soul from a sea of different swirls of magic.

 

In the bunker, there is a constant low hum of magic, of course. But it hums at the same familiar frequency, from the mechanical inner-workings of the facility. There are probably about twenty humans to any one monster in that place, so the feeling of their magic wasn’t very perceptible unless they were standing right next to you.

 

Here, Frisk feels like she’s drowning in her own senses, and it makes her want to scream in some attempt to push it all away from her. She closes her eyes and feels her captor alternate between petting her a bit more roughly and giving her little pats to her belly and chest. Frisk doesn’t fully understand why it helps, but it helps break up the sensory overload somewhat. Like a distraction. She leans into the monster like he’s a shield and focuses on his particular aura.

 

At some point the ride stops and she feels her captor slide off. Frisk subconsciously lets out a little sound of protest, eyes still closed, and in the next moment feels herself being picked up and carried. It’s not a swift grab like before. Rather, the monster cradles her to his chest like an infant and walks to wherever they’re going. Something damp touches her forehead and she feels his breath...was that a kiss?

 

Frisk’s eyes snap back open and she chances a look around. The crowd has thinned and they seem to be approaching a building. She’s still impressed by the size of everything here, accustomed to cubbies too small to sit up in and doors that are barely tall enough for her to walk through. There are a complicated series of locks on the door to this building, that somewhat remind Frisk of some of the chambers in the bunker that only certain important people have access to.

 

White magic crackles along the metal mechanisms of the locks, after the monster carrying her takes a moment to peer into what looks like a glass eye in the center of the door. Frisk is startled when the eye blinks and rolls over to look at her, before swinging away with the door as it opens for them. A magic eye, then.

 

What Frisk sees when they enter the building has her craning her neck up again. Just a little ways inside is a dog-monster seated casually behind what looks like some sort of work-station, going over some papers and pausing to lap something from a ceramic water dish. Whatever is in the dish is definitely not water.

 

Behind the work-station is a large room stacked high with what look like...enclosed sleep cubbies? The same color of magic Frisk saw attached to the door outside pulses lowly around each of the compartments.

 

Only a small number of them seem to actually contain any humans, but the stacks are so high that the monsters have placed ladders between the rows of magic-barred cubbies to gain access to them. These cubbies are also much bigger than the ones in the bunker. Big enough to stand up in and stretch your arms upwards.

 

The canine sitting behind the station looks rather bored, until Frisk and her captor step a bit closer.

 

The reptile holding her says some things she doesn’t understand and gestures a few times towards Frisk, as if subconsciously making half-formed hand signals. She doesn’t understand those either. The dog’s ears perk up and he looks at her with curiosity for a moment, then skepticism. The monster behind the desk growls a few things of their own. The two of them converse back and forth for a few minutes, and it seems to Frisk like they’re having a battle of Influence.

 

Eventually it seems her captor must have won the battle, because the dog puts their paws up in mock-surrender and leaves the desk to go get something. When they return with a metal box, and begin counting little gold disks out of it, Frisk gets a better understanding of what just happened. They were haggling over her. She’s being sold.

 

The bunker doesn’t use physical currency, since one simply ‘unlocks’ new privileges based upon social standing in the community...but she knows enough about history to understand the concept of money. Rather than the modern human system, monsters use the ancient human system of stowing away numerical ‘privilege points’ as physical tokens they trade for rewards. Frisk vaguely wonders how many of these tokens she’s worth, and how difficult it is for a monster to earn them.

 

When the pile of gold gets high enough, the dog-monster stops counting and looks at the hunter expectantly. Frisk briefly feels something from her captor as he gives her a last little squeeze, bringing their Souls closer together, before breaking the connection when he hands her over onto the work station and collects his pay. It seemed like he was reluctant to let her go.

 

The dog taps the magic harness still criss-crossing Frisk’s chest with a claw and the color changes from green to white. Directly after that, the monster who brought her in leaves promptly after collecting his coins, as if he’s in a hurry. The dog eyes him as he exits, then eyes Frisk as if suspicious of her.

 

In a practiced move, Frisk brings her hands up to her chest and looks down and away, trying to look smaller, letting her hair fall over her face. She hears a derisive snort from this monster, then feels a slight tug on the harness. Peering through her bangs, she sees the tether of the harness gripped tightly in one of the dog’s paw-like hands, while the other paw flips through a book of listings for something she can’t read.

 

This one doesn’t want her to stray far either, so she sits down obediently with a little false sigh of resignation. In truth, her heart is hammering in her chest and she’s grateful for the chance to further study her new surroundings. This includes studying her new handler.

 

She’s a little disappointed that she didn’t get to stay with the human-hunter. He seemed very gentle in spite of his strength, and she had to admit she found him handsome too. He would have been fun to wrap around her finger. The dog-monster keeps glancing between her and his book, as if expecting her to suddenly rebel when he’s not paying attention.

 

Frisk realizes that her timid behavior must be a surprise to him. Was that bad? Was she breaking the illusion? Should she act more frightened and desperate? It wouldn’t be all that difficult to pull off, given how overwhelmed she’s feeling right now but...pretending to be calm is preferable to getting lost in the anxiety of everything that’s happening.

 

She doesn’t have time to worry about it however, as the monster jots something down in his book in briefly-glowing magic-ink and then closes it before bringing their full attention back to her. He squints down the end of his snout at someplace on her bare chest, and then using the same utensil that was just used to write in the book, he draws something just below the dip of her collarbones. Frisk squirms and makes a tiny noise of protest at the unfamiliar sensation, which seems to be the proper response, since it makes the dog’s mouth corners twitch in satisfaction. 

 

When he’s finished, there is a perfectly-formed little silver-white heart tattooed onto her skin. Frisk looks down at it curiously only to have a paw lift her chin back up so the monster can squint at her face this time. He pulls her upper and then lower lip back to inspect her teeth, looks at her ears, and riffles through her hair to check her scalp. She’s still caked in a fine layer of dirt and it draws a low rumble of disapproval from him.

 

The next moment, she’s being scooped up firmly with a hand under her bottom and carried to another room. The dog deposits her into a fairly-deep basin thats just a little too high for her to climb out of without a lot of effort, and she leans against the wall of it nervously. He turns on a faucet above her to a very specific degree and she flinches at the noise, then watches him walk off to gather something from a closet.

 

Still huddled by the wall, she extends an arm to test the water and feels momentarily puzzled by how casually he’s letting it run. It’s quite a lot of water and it’s become pleasantly warm. Frisk steps quickly under it out of habit, fretting over the waste. In the bunker, you get a bucket’s-worth of water to wash your hair with once a week or so, and the rest of the time you wipe yourself down with cloths dipped in cleaning solution to stay clean.

 

Then again, there had been plenty of water during the group’s trip through the mountain. Still, the thought of those on the surface using such a precious resource so carelessly fills Frisk with distaste...The dog-monster returns with an over-sized towel and a few different bottles of liquid. He tilts his head at her curiously when he sees her rinsing herself off under the water, as if pleasantly surprised.

 

While he halts her motions so he can massage antiparasitic shampoo into her hair with a cheerful tone of voice, Frisk can’t help a sudden thought that occurs to her. She was brought here alone. Her captor went in a different direction than the rest of the hunting party, after they all went past the city gate. Where did the rest of her group end up?

 

A little involuntary shiver runs through her that has nothing to do with being man-handled by a stranger giving her a very thorough bath. Chara had told her not to worry, but she can’t help wondering how long, if ever, it will take for him to find her again. What if it takes years? What if she has to leave this city with her own monster in tow by herself, and just pray that her twin makes it back to the bunker, too?

 

This line of thinking occupies her through the entire process of being washed, rinsed, toweled dry, and having additional unpleasantly acrid-smelling liquids applied to her. She’s here alone...Finally the monster scoops her up again and pets her damp hair as he carries her back to the room with the cubbies. She vaguely wonders if the petting is meant to be praise for not misbehaving, or just a means to keep her calm.

 

 

He takes her to one of the larger cubbies and dissipates the glowing barred-door, pushes her inside and then summons the door again behind her. Frisk catches him studying her carefully when she gives him a reproachful look, and then she turns to realize that she’s not the only one in the cubby. There are about five other humans here, and all of them are female.

 

The interior of the holding area is decked out with colorful furniture for both comfort and climbing, including long sheets of fabric suspended from the walls that appear to be for sleeping in, judging by the couple of humans lounging in them. Most of them are about Frisk’s age, except for one grizzled-looking old woman and one very young girl. They look at Frisk curiously one after another, but don’t make any moves to approach her.

 

Feeling the dog-monster’s eyes on her, Frisk decides to pick an unoccupied piece of furniture to recline on and settles into it as if preparing to take a nap. She hears him snort through the bars as if to say ‘ _hmph_ ’ and after a moment he returns to his station so he can keep an ear out for trouble and potential business.

 

Frisk dozes off, reasoning that between the other human’s relaxed attitudes and the watchdog monster, she’s in a safe place. Sometime later, she’s awoken by the presence of others around her. A few of the young women moved closer while she slept, and when she opens her eyes they look excited, turning their attention to her and smiling. One of them whispers something to her and in her groggy state she thinks it’s a welcome change from the booming voices of all the monsters.

 

Wait. What had they said just now? Frisk frowns and blinks herself fully awake, propping herself on her elbow to get a better look at her entourage. She shakes her head and cups a hand to her ear, silently asking them to repeat themselves.

 

They lean in closer and say it again, so they won’t have to raise their voice, and Frisk’s heart drops. She doesn’t understand them. In fact...their speech sounds just like the monster language. They all seem perplexed and concerned by the bewildered look on Frisk’s face.

 

Glancing quickly in the direction of the dog-monster’s desk to make sure she isn’t being watched, she sits up fully and nervously attempts signing at the group. They look surprised, then worried. They talk a little amongst themselves, and then one leaves to fetch the old woman, leading her to Frisk by the hand. The lady is looking at Frisk with a severe frown as they approach, the little girl trailing curiously behind her.

 

Feeling apprehensive, like she’s broken some rule, Frisk tries signing to the old woman instead.

 

_Do you know how to sign?_

 

The lady narrows her eyes at Frisk, but she signs back.

 

_Yes. How do you know this?_

 

Frisk hesitates a little at that. Everyone in the bunker knows how to sign. She looks around at the other humans in the group and realizes they are all looking back and forth between the elder and Frisk. They don’t seem to understand the conversation.

 

_My family taught me. Is that strange?_

 

_I’m old. My grandmother taught me. It is very strange...You’re a ‘wild one’ aren’t you?_

 

_Wild one?_

 

_Not born here. From the mountain. Captured._

 

Frisk dips her head a little, almost as if apologizing.

 

_Is that bad?_

 

_It is not good. Wild ones cause trouble. If you fight the magic-people, you will be taken away. You will fight until you die. Life with a collar is better than fighting._

 

Frisk isn’t sure how to feel about all that. Sometimes fighting is necessary, and she’s certainly been taught how in her training. She frowns back at the old woman. Is this what happens to humans who get comfortable being monster’s pets? They just...stay and let themselves be bred for sale and give up hope of anything better than that?

 

_I won’t cause trouble. I won’t fight unless they hurt me._

 

_Don’t fight, even if they hurt you. If they hurt you, you run and find another one. Show them where it hurts and be loud about it. Show them you’re afraid of your master. You’ll get a better master after that._

 

The old woman smirks just a little as she explains this. Frisk gets the feeling the woman is drawing from personal experience. She can’t help smiling back. It’s definitely a smarter plan than causing a scene, and it doesn’t seem like most monsters want to harm humans, so it’s a solid bet she could garner sympathy that way.

 

_I like that idea better._

 

_...Good. I’m surprised you are here. Wild ones usually go to the auctions. This is a place for Tame ones._

 

_I did not fight. They were gentle._

 

The older woman shakes her head dismissively.

 

_I don’t want to know why you are here. My grandmother told me what the mountain is like. The girls here are looking forward to their lives with their masters. Don’t cause trouble. We won’t help you if you do._

 

_I’m looking forward to it to!_

 

Frisk doesn’t know why she feels the need to make this person understand that she’s not the enemy...probably it’s just self-preservation. It’s always good to have allies. When the group of humans all begin moving away from her, however, her heart sinks again in a way she’s never experienced.Her own kind are treating her like something...wrong.

 

 

 

She returns to sleep again, and again. She doesn’t want to think or feel until it’s needed. Frisk can put off the world around her, but she can’t avoid the dreams that greet her. She dreams of being plunged into a tub of icy water in the dark. She dreams of running barefoot down the narrow halls of the bunker, not knowing what’s behind her. She dreams of strong arms carrying her and a glow that makes her feel safe. She dreams of her brother digging gashes down her arms and back until she bleeds and telling her he loves her.

 

She’s dimly-aware of the sound of unintelligible voices when she starts to wake up again, and the sound of something crackling like static. Out of habit, Frisk wakes up fully, but doesn’t open her eyes right away, instead listening carefully to the sounds around her and trying to pick up on the presences with her Soul. It’s a skill she acquired from being taught by the Overseer to always appear oblivious, and Chara would often practice it with her like a game. A competition to see who could fool the other the most.

 

She feels changes in the air around her, the sound of human feet padding together as a group towards the entrance of the cubby. She recognizes the voice of the dog-monster first, and then two new monster voices that are a bit loud for her taste. Interestingly, the dog seems to chastise them, and the other voices get quieter. Maybe he knows that humans don’t like high volumes.

 

Frisk yawns for effect and finally opens her eyes, looking back over her shoulder to squint at what’s going on. Be calm. Act like you don’t care, like you’re only mildly interested. While she continues to lay about on her sleeping surface, the other humans have all gathered near the entrance to vie for the newcomer’s attentions. Frisk rolls over to face them with a sigh, and takes her time studying her potential targets.

 

One of the monsters looks almost human, but the color and sheen of their flesh is metallic, and their eyes are a vivid neon-pink. On closer inspection Frisk can also see that while their face is very comely and humanly-crafted, their body is more angular and robotic. They seem very enthusiastic, chattering to their companion and cooing at the humans in the cubby. Two hands are clasped reverently in front of their face as they peer inside and talk, then without warning a second set of limbs shoots out from their sides and grips the magical bars of the cubby-door in their excitement. They have four arms. Interesting.

 

When she looks at the second newcomer, she’s startled to see them looking directly back at her with a...thoughtful? Expression? It’s a little difficult to tell, since their face is all bone. Frisk shivers a bit, seeing two pinpricks of light glowing inside the skeleton’s eye sockets. Seeing a monster that looks like a dead human, with eyes that remind her of the emergency-power lights from the bunker, staring at her so intently, is more than a little disconcerting.

 

The skeleton is also quite possibly the tallest monster she’s ever seen, towering over their fellow monsters even, and the arches around their sockets make them look very stern. The skeleton turns to the dog-monster and seems to ask something, then points a gloved finger towards Frisk, and for a moment she panics. He doesn’t look like he’d be a kind master.

 

Then she calms herself. If her monster is difficult to tame, that’s alright. It probably means they’re strong, if they can resist her Influence. Chara would tell her that the game was better if it was a challenge.

 

The three monsters converse a bit more, and the dog looks almost apprehensive. He shoots her a meaningful look as if to say ‘ _Behave yourself._ ’ before lining himself up at the entrance of the cubby. Frisk feels that tug around her torso again, and looks down to see the white tether of magic activated, extending to the dog-monster’s paw.

 

It’s obvious what’s expected of her, but Frisk tilts her head to the side and looks at the monsters like she’s confused anyway. A gentle growl from the dog-monster and a more insistent tug has her hopping to her feet with a little whine, still feigning uncertainty. The metal-monster nudges the dog-monster over and their eyes flash pink behind dark bangs.

 

They say something directly to Frisk, and she freezes up. There is a special quality to this one’s voice, and she’s convinced it’s interlaced with the monster’s magic. She can’t understand what they’re saying, but the sound of that voice is like warmth flooding through her whole being. It’s disarming and leaves her staring at them in rapt attention. Is this what Influence feels like? Do monsters have that power too?

 

_They just want you to leave the cubby, Frisk. They don’t know what you’re capable of. It’s alright. Fight it later._

 

She takes a breath and firmly wrestles down her paranoia before smiling at the dulcet-toned monster in question and walking over to their waiting hands. This one is wearing gloves too, she notices, and they look overjoyed when she crawls willingly into their chrome arms. All four arms wrap around her gently and hug her to the monster’s chest-piece, and their visible Soul hums brightly in a glass compartment. Frisk can sense excitement and affection brushing her Soul as her heart once again comes in close contact to a monster’s being, separated by a few inches of flesh and metal.

 

It is then that she notices three other humans all dressed in bright clothes hovering around the legs of the monster holding her. Is this monster the one who might be her ‘master’? She’s not sure she can handle the task of whisking away a monster who already has three loyal pets. They all give her looks that seem friendly enough, but they probably assume that she’s just another ‘tame one’.

 

The skeleton-monster leans in close to Frisk then and it takes all she has not to flinch away from them. They seem...curious but also apprehensive. Nervous. It’s a strange blend of feelings that doesn’t seem to match their grim appearance, Frisk thinks.

 

At a little coaxing from the fuschia-clad automaton, the skeleton almost timidly attempts petting Frisk. She gets the vague sense that it’s a ‘he’, but has no real way of knowing. ‘His’ bony hands are quite large, just like the rest of him, and if she wasn’t concerned about him hurting her it would be almost comical how carefully he angles them to give her a few awkward pats. 

 

Then it’s his turn to hold her, and she can’t help the stiff tension that rises in her body when she’s transferred over to him. She’s nervous. He’s nervous. The waves of their Souls bounce off of and feed into each other. Then gradually, after he cradles her for a few moments, there is a prickle of concern and protectiveness that washes over her from this new Soul. He knows she’s scared and feels bad about it.

 

There’s a ripple of something like guilt, and then...hope? He must be thinking of something unrelated to her, otherwise the two feelings right after another seem odd. His Soul brightens considerably all of a sudden, and Frisk is filled with a strange energy, as if she could do anything and nothing can go wrong. Boundless optimism.

 

The skeleton starts speaking, loudly and pointedly, to the dog. Frisk winces as the sound booms and reverberates around the room, and she sees even the dog-monster’s ears pin back at the noise. This monster is practically yelling and yet Frisk doesn’t sense any feelings of alarm or anger from him.

 

Then they’re moving suddenly to the station, and Frisk still isn’t sure which of the two new monsters is intent on owning her. Are they partners? Will she belong to both of them?

 

The robotic monster chatters animatedly with the dog-monster while the other starts pulling out papers from a filing cabinet. Frisk is shifted to a single skeletal arm when a few of the papers are pushed forward on the desk, and the monster holding her uses their free hand to tap a phalange near the bottom of the top sheet. She feels a tiny prickle course through her where her body touches the bones, and then a small orange glow emerges from the phalange’s tip. The skeleton repeats this a few more times, briefly flashing characters appearing on the paper along a dotted line before fading to a light-less muddy apricot color.

 

The metal-skinned one produces a sparkly pink bag with a metal clasp from...somewhere. Frisk isn’t quite sure if they have compartments on their body or if this is another magic trick, but the robot begins pulling stacks of gold currency out of the bag for the dog-monster to count. It’s somewhat alarming to her how quickly she’s been sold and bought...but she does dimly recall that most of the cubbies were empty when she arrived.

 

It appears humans are a hot commodity. She’s not sure if that’s good or bad. On one hand, one might assume from this that humans are prized, coveted, and well cared-for. On the other...it might mean that they are readily available, and therefore expendable. She also remembers the old woman’s mention of an auction. Frisk wonders if that means her class of ‘wild ones’ was bought up more quickly than she was.

 

The dog-monster finishes counting coins and disappears for a few moments before returning with an ornately-decorated box. The pink-Souled one chatters animatedly again, seeming to admire the design of it, and then looks over to the orange-Souled one with a little coquettish smile. The skeleton pauses for a moment before handing Frisk back over to the robot and then picking up the box to carry it out of the building with a last loud proclamation of...something, to the dog-monster.

 

In addition to carrying the box, the skeleton also holds the door to the streets outside open for the robot and the three pets to exit before exiting himself. Frisk squints at the sudden exposure to sunlight again and wonders if the bone-monster’s behavior means that the metal-monster is someone of some social importance.

 

They come upon a machine, a wheeled vehicle, that matches the robot’s color scheme perfectly, down to the chrome, fuschia, and even the pitch-black of their hair. The owner of the car opens a door and the three pets clamber inside obediently before he shuts it again. The skeleton opens a door in the rear of the contraption and sets the box inside, then waits for the robot to come around to the back with Frisk held firmly. She notices when she is set down inside the plush interior of this part of the vehicle, that both monsters seem to move their bodies to block her from jumping out.

 

Of course. They have to protect their investment. They wouldn’t want to lose a possession they gained with their hard-earned reward-credits, after all. Frisk would likely do the same in their position. She knows that gaining her own special companion will take time and effort, and she would be loathe to let them leave...

 

The robot has three arms stretched casually in different places. One placed on the lip of the vehicle to steady him, one stretched up to grip the edge of the back door, and the third wrapped companionably around the skeleton’s shoulders. The fourth arm reaches out for Frisk and taps the soul-mark under her collarbone lightly with a middle-finger, re-activating the white harness-magic. They then draw out a tether and attach it securely to the back of the seat behind Frisk, the shortness of it keeping her from moving more than an inch in any direction.

 

The metal-monster says something to Frisk again in that honeyed magical-tone of voice and taps her gently on the end of her nose with a pointer-finger this time, before moving away so the skeleton can close the door. The two monsters move to the front of the vehicle, and Frisk overhears an exchange between them that sounds briefly like an argument before the robot seems to _coo_ in mock-defeat. The skeleton sits in the side of the machine that houses what Frisk assumes are the controls, while the other monster sidles in the other side and sits primly, gazing at the skeleton with a warm smile.

 

The whole thing roars and shudders to life with a few hand motions from the driver, and Frisk is grateful that she can move her arms to cover her ears. The contraption moves and she feels her stomach lurch unpleasantly, then suddenly there’s something patting the top of her head. She glances up to see the three humans stretching themselves to peer at her over the seats that are nearly taller than they are, all smiling and giving her a silent gaze that is somehow comforting. One of them reaches a hand down towards her and makes a grabby motion, and it takes Frisk a few moments to reach her own hand back up to meet theirs.

 

During the rest of the ride, three separate hands grasp at her single outstretched one and hold it firmly, and three faces keep making eye contact with her, as if to say ‘ _It’s ok._ ’

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